


Kiss of Divinity

by FayeWildwood



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: BAMF Lisa Snart, Barry Allen Needs a Hug, F/M, How Do I Tag, Len is God of the underworld, Leonard Snart is a Softie, M/M, Minor Cisco Ramon/Lisa Snart, Minor Mick Rory/Hartley Rathaway, Protective Leonard Snart, Temporary Character Death, alternate universe - hades/persephone, barry sells his soul for iris, kind of a twist on it sort of not really, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-20 11:44:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15533502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FayeWildwood/pseuds/FayeWildwood
Summary: "Please," he screamed at the old temple ruins that he could barely see through the snowfall. "Please help me!" Something in him broke then, shattered like glass on stone and he crumpled over Iris' body, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and tugging her into his lap. He dug his face in her frosted curls and sobbed, refusing to acknowledge the stillness of her chest or the coldness of her skin. "I'm so sorry, Iris, so sorry- I tried, gods I tried. I- I'm so sorry-""She cant hear you," a low voice said, jerking Barry to attention,. "Shes already gone."--Or, that sort of Hades/Persephone Au that no one asked for. Basically Barry sells his soul to the god of the underworld to save Iris.





	1. A Deal's a Deal

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm way behind on other works, but this one just came to me and I HAD to do it. Yay, sorry. not sorry. oh well. Enjoy!

The wind was a biting cold against Barry's skin, slicing and clawing at his cheeks, his fingers, his lungs. His feet ached from pain and maybe a little bit of frostbite and the weight in his arms was growing heavier and heavier the longer he went, but he was so close... He could see the temple ruins just over the hill. He had to make it, had to.

The body he held so desperately in his hands was completely limp, her lips turning a sickly blue-purple and though Barry knew she couldn't hear him, he babbled and babbled for hours as he trekked up the mountain side.

"We're almost there Iris, just a little farther. I can- i can see it- just stay with me."

He made it another few feet before something grabbed at his foot and sent him sprawling. He just managed to protect Iris from the harsh fall but his legs had nearly given out completely from exhaustion, his will no longer strong enough to keep him going.

" _Please,"_ he screamed at the old ruins that he could barely see through the snowfall. " _Please help me!"_ Something in him broke then, shattered like glass on stone and he crumpled over Iris' body, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and tugging her into his lap. He dug his face in her frosted curls and sobbed, refusing to acknowledge the stillness of her chest or the coldness of her skin. "I'm so sorry, Iris, so sorry- I tried, gods I tried. I- I'm so sorry-"      

"She cant hear you," a low voice said, jerking Barry to attention,. "Shes already gone."

It was a man, crouched down before them, only an arms length away. Barry had no idea how he hadn't heard him, but he was hardly concerned with that. The man was cloaked in a royal   blue cloak, lined with  a frosted white and his piercing blue eyes bore into Barrys soul. There was no pity there, no sadness, just... Curiosity.

"Please," Barry begged, reaching for the man and wrapping his fingers around the bit of cloak he could grab. "Please help me, I have to- i have to get her to the temple."

"Temple?" The man blinked, frowning at Barry. "The temple is as dead as your friend, kid. Those who used to live there have long turned to dust-"

"Its sacred," Barry argued, trying to gather Iris back into his trembling arms. If the stranger wouldn't help, he had to do it himself. "The gods- they can help her- he... He has to help her." He pushed himself to his feet, finding strength he didn't know he had to trudge forward.   

The stranger followed by his side, arms behind his back as he hummed. "Why should he? This god, the one who once drew power from this temple is old and ugly. Hes tired and selfish and doesn't pity the little mortals who beg him for favors."

"And you know so much about them do you?" Barry snapped, though he was slightly grateful for the stranger. The company reminded him that he was still alive, still breathing, and that he had to make it.

"About him? Yes, and a few others." The man shrugged taking a step ahead of Barry and over one of the large fallen pillars that lined the ruins. He held his hands out as if to steady Barry, or perhaps catch him if he fell, but he didn't touch him. Once Barry and Iris had made it over the stone, he dropped his hands and continued on, pausing when Barry paused, walking when he walked. "You beg the gods to grant you something and yet you've offered nothing in return. If it could be done, a soul requires a great sacrifice in return. Such powerful magick not easily come by." The stranger waited patiently as Barry stumbled towards the still standing dais in the center of the temple's crumbling walls, watching with a curious look in his eye as the boy placed her still body atop it. The dais itself rested at the feet of a large statue, the face and head long ago broken off, the details worn from the weather and the name at the base long forgotten. Still, Barry crumbled before it, his legs no longer able to hold himself up and he rested his forehead on Iris' hand. The stranger knelt beside him, close enough that Barry should have felt his heat if he could feel anything at all, but not close enough to touch. "You must offer him something, or he cannot help you."

"Anything," Barry sobbed, fingers gripping the limp hand beside his head. "I'd give anything for her-"

"And who is she to you," the man questioned, his voice devoid of any emotion. "A lover? A wife perhaps?"

Barry shook his head, fingers clutching desperately and he raised his eyes to meet those blue ones staring back at him. "My sister," he whispered, voice cracking with emotion. "She's my sister, and she's all I have."

_There_ , Barry thought as he watched the stranger. There hadn't been anything in his eyes but curiosity before, but now- now there was surprise, perhaps a bit of understanding as the stranger thought. "A soul is a valuable thing to wish for," he said again, voice low and careful, like a warning being whispered in a storm. "There is only one way to bring a soul back from the dead, only one thing your god will require in return for such a hefty gift..." He searched Barry's eyes for something, seeming to have found it because he reached forward towards the boy, fingers resting just under his chin and lifting Barry's face a bit. His fingers were ice cold and so incredibly gentle on Barry's skin, and he couldn't help but wonder how the man wasn't shivering from how cold he was. "A soul for a soul, that is the deal."

"He- he needs a soul in return?" Barry stuttered with a frown. "That's it?"

The man snorted, raising an eyebrow at him. " _That's it?_  A soul is a valuable thing, kid. It's not something most would just-"

"Tell me," Barry interrupted, fingers leaving Iris' to clutch at the stranger's wrist. The man blinked in surprise, flinching a bit from the contact but Barry only leaned further into his space. "Tell me how to do it, how to give him my soul. Do I just- do I have to die, is that what it takes?"

The stranger stared at him in unbridled shock, mouth dropping open slightly before his thumb and forefinger gripped the boy's chin. "You'd give your life so easily for her? Without question?"

"Of course, she's my sister," Barry replied stubbornly. "She has a life, a husband, children- she has people who need her."

"And you don't?"

Barry shook his head, fingers digging into the stranger's wrist. "She's all I have. Please, tell me what to do."

"You would never be able to return," the stranger said, lifting Barry's chin again so their eyes could meet. "Do you understand that, kid? You won't be able to see her again, won't be able to walk the mortal realm ever again. You'll be his to do with as he pleases. A soul is not something to just give up without knowing the consequences."

But the kid was already shaking his head. "I don't care. I don't care! She has to live, she has to!"

"If you're sure." He waited for Barry's nod before leaning forward, their lips a breath apart. "Then I agree to your terms. Your soul, for your sister's."

"You agree?" He blinked in surprise, body tensing immediately. He'd been in the presence of a god this whole time and hadn't- he didn't even notice. "You're the god of death?"

"On good days," the stranger- the  _god_ \- mused with a hum, tapping his thumb on Barry's chin. "This is something you won't be able to take back," he warned. "Once you do this, you're mine for all of eternity. There is no going back, no second chances, nothing." The kid was already nodding, and the god hummed. "Then kiss me, Bartholomew Allen, and your soul is mine to keep."

Barry barely hesitated, crashing their lips together in what might have been a heated kiss had it not been for the dead body in his arms or the freezing temperature around them. There was a heat in his chest, surging and burning through his veins so hot that he had to pull away and gasp. The god's eyes were burning an impossible blue, casting the light under his hood. A scream was ripped out of Barry's throat from the pain and he bowed over, fingers scratching at his chest, trying to dig the fire out.

"And so the deal is done," the stranger said quietly, almost reluctantly. "She will awaken when you reach the base of the mountain. Once she does, I will give you three days to return to me here, or I will come to fetch you. I suggest you say your goodbyes while you can, Bartholomew. For in three days time, you will be mine."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry honors his deal and it's... actually not that bad?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: I totally wrote this all on my phone, so if I fucked up spelling something or autocorrect messed up, then I'm sorry! Please don't kill me!

The temple ruins were much less imposing when Barry didn't have a dead body in his arms or a storm raging around him. In fact, the mountain was eerily quiet and the snow crunched loudly under Barry's boot.

His heart pounded in his chest the closer he got to the ruins, the gods words from days before echoing against his skull.

_Mine for all eternity._

_His to do with as he pleases_ , Barry remembered him saying. A shiver ran up his spine that he blamed on the cold and he wrapped his cloak tighter around himself. He had no idea what the man had in mind for him, no inclination towards what his enslavement would entail. Still... A deal was a deal.

True to the stranger's promise, Iris had gasped back to life gently and quietly the second Barry reached the base of the mountain. It was much less dramatic than he had been imagining. She'd simply blinked open her eyes and asked him why his face was ugly and splotchy, making Barry laugh with relief. He hadn't told her of course of the deal he'd made, not at the time. Days later, when his clock was running out, he'd sat her down and explained that a healer had helped her in return for Barry working for him. It wasn't necessarily a lie, but it still sat ugly and heavy in his throat when he'd said it. Iris bid him a tearful goodbye and kissed him on the cheek before he left for good, the promise to write tasting like ash on his tongue.

He wasn't angry at the god for the price he'd asked for. Barry had been prepared to give anything, do anything, to save his sister. His life was a small price to pay if it meant she would continue on. Still, something nervous and unsure churned in his stomach as he stepped into what used to be the main worship room.

The dais was still there, Iris' blood staining its surface, but instead of it being empty, a small, lone figure sat atop it.

It wasn't the god he was expecting.

It was a boy no older than himself, hair slightly long and messy, black robes hanging off his skinny body. A pair of spectacles rested on his nose and he tapped his gloved fingers on his knee.

"Fucking finally," he groaned upon seeing Barry approach, tossing his arms into the air. "I've been waiting here for  _literal_  seconds! Do you know how long that is for someone like me? Eons! Centuries! Decades!  _You_  are  _late_." Barry flushed, frowning at the boy in confusion. He had no idea who he was- another god perhaps?- but before he could ask, the stranger pushed himself off the dais and strode towards him, eyes narrowed in scrutiny. "Hmm, guess I can see why Cold chose you. Bit  weird if you ask me, but you're not ugly." He circled Barry twice before stopping in front of him again. "Mick'll have a field day with this... Lisa is gonna flip."

"I have no idea what your talking about," Barry grumbled, frustrated with the new face and the stare down. "I thought- i thought  _he_ was going to meet me."

The boy glanced behind him at the statue that Barry nodded to, snorting softly. " _He_ is busy ruling the underworld," he said sarcastically. "Cold sent me to retrieve you and get you settled in."

"Cold?" Barry asked, stumBling behind as the black clad man turned and started walking away.

"Yeah, its what we call your  _god of death,_ " he said with a roll of the eyes. "We call him Cold. Only the other gods know his real name."

"And who are you?"

The boy shrugged. "His majestie's glorified secretary. My name is Hartley, I'm basically the errand boy with a fancy title. Come on, hurry up, I have important things to do."

Hartley waved Barry forward, leading him into one of the only rooms left enclosed in the temple. It was in disarray like the others, but on the far side of the room was a huge silver frame, propped up against the crumbling walls and slightly weathered with age. The mirrored surface within it was broken, half remaining in the frame, the other half shattered across the floor. Hartley walked towards the unbroken side, glancing back at Barry with a wicked grin. "Bit of a tight squeeze."

Barry's jaw dropped when the boy ducked down and disappeared... Right through the mirror.

He blinked, rubbing his eyes to make sure he hadn't imagined it, but before he could even think of a plausible explanation, Hartley's head popped back out. "Come on, I can't hold the portal open all day. Seconds are eons, remember? Lets move it, kid."

Barry forced himself not to think too much about it. After all, a god had brought his dead sister back to life in exchange for his soul... A portal in a mirror really shouldn't surprise him. Still, he found himself hesitating before stepping through, hand outstretched towards the glass, but where he expected it to be solid, it rippled instead... Like the surface of a pond.

"Oh for fucks sake," he heard from the other side, muffled and garbled, before a hand shot out and wrapped around his wrist. He didn't get a chance to struggle even if he wanted to, instead being yanked forward through the shimmering glass.

On the other side was a significantly warmer chamber, mirroring the one they'd left but still fully standing. Various crates and canvas and barrels were shoved against the walls, stacks of books covering most of the rest of the space and Barry nearly toppled a pile over as he tripped forward.

"What is this place?"

"This," Hartley said with grandiose, spreading his arms out wide before blandly saying, "is a storage room."

The man rolled his eyes at Barrys annoyed snarl before leading him through the maze of objects and through a pair of large doors. " _This_ however, is the palace," he said with an impish smile.

It was actually just a hallway, but even just this small part of what Barry assumed  was a massive palace, was absolutely gorgeous.   The walls were made of alabaster, decorated with hanging tapestries and oil paintings in gaudy frames. The ceilings stood so high that Barry wondered how they ever got cleaned as Hartley started leading him away.

"You can roam the castle as freely as you like. Any room that are unlocked you're allowed in. Don't go down to the lower levels, they're off limits to anyone but Cold." Barry opened his mouth to ask how he'd know but Hartley waved a hand at him. "Once you start seeing frost on the walls, best to turn around."

Barry nodded, wondering where exactly the "secretary" was leading him. He'd half expected to be taken to the dungeons, or some afterlife that Iris had been stuck in since he traded himself for her. Or... Cold's bedroom if his suspicions about why he was there were correct.

_His to do with as he pleases._

 They came upon a set of oak doors that looked much heavier than they were and Hartley pushed them open easily.

"These are your rooms," he said as he stepped aside, letting Barry gawk as he wandered in.

The first room- a sitting room it looked like- was larger than his entire house back home. Plush chairs surrounded a low sitting table made of shimmering glass and black stone. Tapestries and drapes of all colors hung from the ceiling and walls, some pulled aside to reveal two other open archway. It was decorated much in the same way that he'd seen the markets or whore houses done up like. "That one leads to a private office," his guide said, gesturing to the room on the left, "and that one to your bed chambers. There is a private bath room and wardrobe as well."

" _This is my room?"_

"Yeah, what, did you expect something nicer, your  _highness?_ " Hartley rolled his eyes. "You have the third nicest room in the castle, it's good enough. Now, I have things to do. If you need anything, just call out   and someone will be there."

Before Barry could ask who to call for, the doors were being pulled shut and he was left alone to explore. And explore he did.

He hadn't meant for Hartley to take it the way he dis. He wasn't ungrateful by any means, he was simply shocked. He had expected dungeons or even being stuck in Colds room... Not his own entire space.

 His bed chamber was even more luxurious than the sitting room, the bed four poster with cloth of scarlet red draping around a mattress big enough to fit five or six people side by side. There was a heavy, black wood chest at the foot of it, some shelves scattered around, a smaller seating area, and even a desk shoved against one wall. Next to the door he could only assume led to the bath room, was a huge wardrobe, the dark wood matching the chest. When he dared to pull the doors open, he was met with a face full of bright colors   and so many clothes his breath was stolen from his lungs.

They were mostly silks or smooth linens, purples and reds and blues and greens. One of the drawers were filled with jewelry, another full of slippers that fit snuggly against his feet when he tried them on.

Barry was out of his wet, snow covered clothes in a second, dressing himself in a pair of deep red pants that hugged tight against his ankles and waist but billowed around his legs with a comfort he hadn't expected. He paired it with a soft black tunic, forgoing any jewelry for now and slipping on some shoes before moving on.

He just dropped onto the bed when there was a loud grumble that echoed through his bones, his stomach reminding him that he hadn't eaten all day.

A bit unsure of himself, Barry sat up and frowned at the wall.

"Umm.... Hello? Is anyone there to uh- help me?"

His face burned with embarrassment, feeling ridiculous for talking to no one, but only a moment later there was a soft pop and a man appeared before him. 

His skin was darker than the last, his hair tied into a messy bun atop his head and he bowed lower than he probably should have for someone as poor as Barry... He bowed low enough to mistake him for royalty. "Master Bartholomew," he greeted. "Nice to meet you. I am Cisco and at your service whenever you need me."

"Ah- dont bow," Barry said awkwardly as the man straightened back up. "I dont- i mean you don't- just... Call me Barry, please," he finished lamely, rubbing the back of his head in nerves.

Cisco blinked at him with wide brown eyes before a smile spread across his face. "Ah shit, you really  _are_  adorable. Nice to meet you Barry. What can i do for you?"  

"Oh, right," he said, remembering that he had actually called the man for a reason. "Are you a servant here? Or are you like, like Hartley?"

"Just a servant," Cisco answered easily. "I do most of the cooking and keep the place fixed up."

Barry sighed and smiled shyly back. "Oh great. I am starving and I didn't really think to bring any food with me-"  

"No this is great!" Cisco interrupted quickly, grin splitting his face. "I haven't gotten to cook for a human in decades! Cold has specific dishes he likes prepared. Please, let me make you something new!"

"Ah, okay..." Barry answered with a chuckle. "I'll umm... Let you decide then."

Cisco practically jogged in place, rushing forward to wrap Barry in a hug. "Ah yes! This is gonna be great! Give me like an hour, explore, roam, I'll find you when I'm done!" He disappeared with another pop before reappearing. "And don't tell Cold I hugged you, please!"

Barry didn't get a chance to reply before he was gone again and he sighed, dropping back onto the bed and letting out a moan at how soft it was.

Maybe he could get a few hours of sleep before dinner.  


	3. Bond Marks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len and Barry see each other for the first time since the deal was made. Barry learns something new from Cisco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick note: I wrote most of this on my phone, so if there are any mistakes or anything, sorry! I think I got all of them when I went through it again, but I'm not sure.  
> also thank you thank you thank you everyone for all the amazing reviews! :)

There was laughter rolling through the halls, slipping in between the open crack of Len's office door and wrapping around him like an unfamiliar viper.   Two of the voices were well known to him, but the third... The third was new and warm and so alive.

He found himself following the sounds, leaving his blue and white cloak behind so he was dressed in some black pants and a tunic. His bare feet padded silently as he trailed his usually silent halls, following the chattering and laughing.

The sounds were strange. He'd heard laughing before of course. He and Mick and Lisa could have great fun when they were together, but it had been so long since his palace had some genuine happiness in its walls. He knew his workers had fun on their down time. He may be a recluse, but he knew what went on in his own home. Still, they tended to do it far away and... quietly.

Though the laugh was unfamiliar to him, he knew instantly who it belonged to, even before he drew up to the library doors.

The human, the one who had sold his soul without a second thought. The one who had honored his deal of 3 days without Len having to track him down. The one with such beautiful hazel eyes that the god found himself spoiling the boy rather than transferring him over to the afterlife where he should have gone. The one who had been there for nearly a week without a single visit from his supposed captor. 

Bartholomew Allen- though Ramon had started calling him Barry.

The boy was dancing through the stacks when Len slid into the room. Hartley was sitting atop a table, rolling his eyes in annoyance but a smile was tugging gently at his lips dispite himself and the flute he was playing sent a sweet tune through the room.  Cisco was in front of Barry, laughing with his whole body as he tried to copy the complicated footwork for whatever dance the human was attempting to teach him.

Len settled himself in the shadows to watch, both in curiosity and in a sort of trance.  

He had made many deals over his long, long lifetime. He was no stranger to them, but more often than not the person making the deal was angry and hurt, upset at actually having to pay up. They went into the after life kicking and screaming, crying or begging. The ones who were ready for him, who came willingly, were sad and reluctant, quiet and shuffling.

And yet here was his most recent prize, dancing through his libraries and smiling as bright as the fucking sun. He should have been sad to leave his precious sister, should have been moping around the halls in despair. And yet now he was...

Now he was singing.

The sound rocked through Len's bones like a tidal wave, nearly kicking the breath from him. Even Cisco stopped in awe to watch the boy dance and sing. Hartley's eyes had widened, but he didn't stop the tune he'd slipped into, one Barry apparently recognized.

The tune wasn't unfamiliar to the god. He knew nearly every song ever written considering how much time he spent watching the mortal world. This one was old, sweet and impossibly angelic on the human's tongue. It was about a person so in love with the ocean that they painted it day and night, every angle, every glimmer, every wave. They'd stand at the top of a cliff and pour their love for the blue mass into canvas and sketch paper and ink. Until one day there was an accident. The painter was cast off the edge of the cliff by a gust of wind. And yet they did not scream, they did not flail. They welcomed the death willingly for they would be dying within the very thing they loved most. Instead of the sharp rocks meeting their fall, or the water filling their lungs, however, they were met with a soft and wet pressure. The waves wrapped around them, hugging them, protecting them, before they washed back upon the shore. For how could the ocean let die the only person who has ever loved them so?

By the end of the song, Barry was breathing heavy and had ended facing Len's little shadowed corner.

The human's eyes widened and his face flushed the most beautiful scarlet, sending a rush of unfamiliar panic through Len's chest.

Plump lips parted to speak, but the god interrupted before he could. "Hartley," he said sharply, making the other boy jump in surprise, not having noticed him yet, "my office." And before he could even try to understand what the feeling in his chest was, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the library.

\--

Barry hadn't noticed a fourth person in the room until his dance was over. He was panting by the end of it, his legs burning since he hadn't danced in so long, but for the first time in the week that he'd been stuck here in the underworld, he felt... lifted almost. Like maybe it wouldn't be so bad here.

Then he saw him.

He knew who it was, he wasn't an idiot. He might not have seen the god's face on the mountain, but those eyes were unmistakable. He was... absolutely gorgeous. Just barely taller than Barry himself, but he was all long limbs and lean muscles. His silver hair was cut close to his head and his face was made up of all sharp lines. His lips however were what drew Barry's attention the most. Because straight down the middle of his bottom lip was a thick white light, similar to war paint he'd seen on soldiers in the valleys. It was so different on him.

  He looked just as shocked as Barry to have been caught, but as soon as Barry caught sight of the emotion, it was wiped away into a confused scowl.

"Hartley, my office," he all but growled before stalking away.

"Shit, shit, shit-" Hartley cursed, gathering up his bag and shoving his flute into it. "I knew you idiots were going to get me in trouble. Should have never-" his voice trailed off as he hurried out the door and down the hall, leaving only Barry and Cisco in the libraries.

"Relax," Cisco chuckled, patting Barry on the shoulder before sitting back where he was before the impromptu dance lessons. "He wont get in trouble. Cold would let you get away with murder."

"Me?" The mortal asked, turning away from the door and scrunching his face in Cisco's direction. "Why me?"

The being raised an eyebrow before waving his hands in Barry's general direction. "Well one, look at you. I doubt anyone could say no to your puppy eyes. And two, well- I mean you guys are- like uh-" he tapped a finger to his lips and Barry felt his confusion grow even stronger. "Like, you know- bound and shit."

Bound... Barry's stomach fluttered with the word but he didn't know if it was in confusion or excitement. "What do you mean, bound?"

"What do you mean, what do i mean? You guys are bound. I- wait," Cisco blinked, frowning at him for a long moment before his eyes widened. "You don't know? I- why the hell do you think you're here?"

"I sold my soul," Barry answered as if it were obvious. "My sister was dying," he said because he refused to admit shed been dead, "and I traded my soul for hers.  "

"You... Traded your soul-" he repeated in awe, mouth dropping open and Barry wondered if maybe deals were supposed to be kept secret or not. "And he said  _yes_?"  

Well that was an odd question. "Obviously, I mean I'm here, aren't I?" He replied, hands on his hips. "Why do you sound so shocked?"

"I don't! I mean," Cisco rubbed the back of his head and frowned. "Well Cold makes deals a lot, but... I mean he has never traded a soul before. Its just- I mean it's not done. It's powerful magic that always costs something. I've only seen something remotely like it once before. He didn't really trade a soul but, well someone died and Cold-" he trailed off, clearly knowing he probably shouldn't speak of whatever it was he was saying.

"He what?"

"Well, his- I mean another god had fallen for a mortal a long ass time ago. But mortals- well you're all so fragile, right?" Cisco shrugged. "So like, the mortal got real sick, he was dying. So The god of chaos asked Cold if he could have him."

Something in Barry's gut fluttered again. "Have him?"

"Yeah like- most souls when they die- Cold sends them to the afterlife right?" Barry shrugged because he assumed so. "Well only two people have gotten around that, you and Hartley."

"Hartley," Barry exclaimed, eyes flickering to the door as if the man in question might still hear him.

"Yeah. Hart and the God of Chaos, we call him Heatwave, fell in love. When Hartley got sick, Heatwave asked Cold to spare him from the afterlife. To do that though, Cold had to bind Hartley's soul to something, so he bound it to Heatwave. They're connected now, but Hartley can't leave the palace for long periods of time. Cold made him a messenger so he could pass back and forth between realms, but he is in a sense undead, so he has to live where the dead live." Cisco spread out his arms as if to say here. "You're bound to Cold, hence why you aren't in the afterlife, and why you cant leave the palace. Its why you have the- the thing," he said, gesturing to his mouth. When Barry only frowned at him, Cisco slapped his hand to his face and groaned. "Right, i forgot. Cold doesn't have mirrors. Ah, here here-" Cisco turned and grabbed the silver platter they'd had food on earlier and held it up for Barry to see.

At first his reflection didn't look any different to him. His eyes were still big, his freckles dark against pale skin, and the bags of stress he'd gained from Iris being sick had never really gone away. Now though, there was a thin white stripe down the center of his bottom lip. Nearly identical to the one that he'd seen on Cold's own lip. He ran a tongue over it experimentally and shivered at the cool feeling of it against his warm tongue. It was like running his tongue across ice.

"This- I saw it on Cold as well."

Cisco nodded, letting Barry take the platter from him to look closer. "Yeah it's how a bonding to a god works. Doesn't happen incredibly often, but it's like- like a kiss of divinity sort of. To keep a mortal soul living between the realms, they need a little bit extra to keep them going. So that mark, and Hartley's to Heatwave, is like a magical power source keeping you alive."

A kiss of divinity...

The image of that cool looking man pressing Barry against the wall, lips smashing against his own, ran through his mind and he sputtered, face burning as he dropped the platter back onto the table.

"I-I don't uh... Does this mean- like am I his-"

"Sex slave?" Cisco finished for him with a waggle of the eyebrows. "Is that what you want? Because you could ask that man for anything and I'd bet he'd give it to you. He didn't stop asking about you for the first four days you were here. He only stopped after that because we stopped answering."

Barry blushed, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "I mean- he's very attractive but... Well it's-"

"Chill, Barry," Cisco laughed, shaking his head. "I doubt that's why you're here. You saved your sister right?" The mortal nodded and Cisco shrugged. "Cold has a soft spot for sibling deals. He probably has a plan for you here though. Most deals go straight to their destination, they don't get stuck here."

Kiss me Bartholomew Allen, and your soul is mine to keep.

"Will you- uh, will you take me to him? To Cold i mean? We should- I - we should probably talk..."


End file.
